FIC: Rabe und Wolf, PG13
Title: Rabe und Wolf Author: Rosy Rated: PG13 Challenge: Fairy Tale Challenge Disclaimer: The Potterverse does not belong to me, and I do not make money off of it. More's the pity. Summary: There once was a puppet who wanted a heart Warnings: AU, somewhat dark Notes: ...this is what happens when you watch Princess Tutu, read too many Grimm’s Brothers and Hans Christian Anderson, and then find out there's a Fairy Tale Challenge going on at Lupin_Snape
Once upon a time, there was a man who died. Before he died, he made a beautiful puppet, a raven, who only wanted a human heart.
The raven was impatient, though, and betrayed his maker when the puppet master offered to give him a heart. And so it was that the puppet met the silver wolf in the woods, the night the old man died. The puppet returned to its cupboard, hoping that soon the puppet master would fulfill his dearest wish. He waited in his cupboard, his amber beak clicking impatiently. He wished for a heart, if only to mourn his maker as he ought. For three days and three nights, he waited in the toy shop, never straying far from his cupboard. Many times, he heard the voices of men as they searched for clues to tell them the murderer's identity. But none were found.
Then, on the morning of the fourth day, the puppet master appeared to the raven. "Fool!" he hissed, pacing angrily in toyshop. "You were seen! The Potters have told the Captain of the Watch that they have seen the one who killed the old man!" The raven flapped its wooden wings in distress.
"How? How?" he croaked.
"It doesn't matter how," the puppet master hissed. "You must go to the woodcutter's cottage and kill whomever you find. If you do not, we will surely be discovered and you shall be destroyed!"
"A heart?" the raven croaked. "A heart?"
"You shall get your heart when you've brought me proof that the Potters are dead." With this promise, the raven flew to the woodcutter's cottage, perching on a fence post with his wooden feathers clacking together. Once settled, he watched the comings and goings.
The first that he saw was a woman, with hair like rubies, who dandled a baby on her hip. She crooned a lulabye to him, smiling when his chubby fingers became tangled in her hair. Then, she settled him in a rocker before starting to spin her wool. Even while she spun, she sang. And the song was soft and sweet, and it drew the raven over to her. He fluttered from the fence post closer and closer, hopping until he stood only a few feet away from the woman. She looked up in surprise. "Oh... what a strange bird..." she murmured. The raven croaked, looking somewhat insulted at that. She laughed. "I'm sorry... I have never seen a bird like you before..." She reached down and took a bit of bread from her trencher, crumbling it in her hands and spreading the crumbs for the raven.
The raven tipped its head, and hopped a little closer, pecking at the crumbs with its amber beak. "Oh!" the lady said with surprise. "You are made of wood and amber! Surely, you are one of Herr Dumbledore's puppets." She looked sadly at him. "How sad you must be. Your master is dead."
The raven looked at her, tipping its head curiously. Gently, she reached out and took the bird into her lap, stroking the ebony head. The raven was amazed, for not even the old man had done this. "I am sorry for you," she murmured. "I do not know if he finished his last story. But you may stay as long as you wish." The raven looked up at her, and croaked softly. She smiled, and pressed a kiss to his forehead, then began to sing.
Far and away where night meets day search for thy love where dawn breaks o'er the mountain, There will be a place for thee with they love where dawn breaks oe'r the mountain.
"What's this, my love?" asked the woodcutter, as he returned. The raven, startled, flew to the roof.
"One of the old man's puppets, I think." She went and greeted her husband and their friend. The raven was surprised to see the man dressed all in furs with them. "He came here and has kept me and the babe company while you two were away in the forest. Isn't he beautiful?"
"As a knob," the woodcutter said. "But, if he please you, my love, he may stay as long as he wishes." The raven hissed at him, flapping its wings. "Though why you would wish such a thing is beyond my understanding."
"He's a kind Rabe," the lady said, smiling up at the bird. "And he's lonely, I think, now that Herr Dumbledore is gone." The man in fur watched the raven carefully, his eyes hidden in shadow.
"Let him stay, James," the man said in his soft, raspy voice. "Perhaps he is truly lonely, as your Lily says. Perhaps, he can learn something while he is here. Who knows, but that may be what the old man wished."
"So be it," the woodcutter replied. And so, the raven remained on the rooftop, watching as the woodcutter played with his infant son and his lady fed them all in the afternoon sun. She again spread crumbs for him, and eventually coaxed him into her lap. So kind and gentle was she, that he could not resist her call. Instead, he felt some strange warmth in his empty breast whenever her hand lay upon his back. But having no heart, he did not know what such a thing was. The woodcutter ignored him, for he had no patience with such things. But whenever he felt the eyes of the man in fur upon him, a different warmth flooded him. This also, he could not name. Though he wondered what would happen if the man in furs put his hand upon his wooden back.
~*~*~
He made sure to fly to the woods before sunset. In the shadow of the trees, he changed form, and watched as Lily came from the cottage and called out to him. She could not see him, but the look on her face made his empty breast clench a little. When darkness was upon the cottage, James drew her back inside and slid the bolt home. He sighed, frowning. Slowly, he began to walk amongst the trees. This was problematic. In order to get his heart, he must kill the woodcutter, his wife and child, and the man all in furs. But to do that after she had been so kind to them did not sit well with him.
He shouldn't have been surprised when the silver wolf appeared to him again. The creature stood a little ways away, staring at him with its golden eyes. "What am I to do, wolf?" he said quietly. "The Marionettenmeister knows that they have seen me. And that they could tell the Captain of the Watch that I killed the old man. They would surely destroy me." He looked back at the cottage. "The Marionettenmeister has bid me kill them, man, woman and babe. I cannot have my heart until I do... and yet..."
The wolf tipped its great head, and made a gentle wuffing sound, coaxing him.
"And yet, she was so very kind to me, was she not?" He looked at the wolf. "She sang to me, and fed me breadcrumbs, and pet me. She called me kind Rabe... no one has ever done these things for me before. It seems a wrong to kill her after she has done me such a kindness." The wolf padded over to him, nudging his hand. Gently, the puppet pet him. "But if I do not... I will never have a heart. For now, only the Marionettenmeister has the power to give me one." He frowned. "This is almost as vexing as waiting for the old man's story."
The wolf gave a short growl and nipped at his fingers, leaving dents in the wood. The puppet shook his head. "No, you are right. I cannot kill them. It was a mistake to kill Herr Dumbledore, one that I shan't repeat. But if I do not kill them, he will send someone else..." The puppet began to pace, puzzling over what to do. Round and round he went, then paused. "Yes... yes that might work. If only they'll believe me." He looked at the beast. "Do not follow me, wolf. For you may fright them."
Quickly, he went to the door and knocked as loudly as he dared. He only hoped the Marionettenmeister had not sent spies to watch him. When James opened the door, the man's eyes widened. "....what in the devil's name?!"
"Quiet, Herr Potter," the puppet hissed. "You know me very well. I am the raven whom your wife treated so well, and have come to warn you. Let me in." James looked at him warily, but then the wolf stepped out from the shadows and wuffed. The puppet was surprised when the woodcutter frowned, and then nodded, letting them both in.
"Speak quickly," he said, holding a small hatchet in his hands. Lily stood at the fireplace, the little babe cradled in her arms.
"It is true that I am a puppet Herr Dumbledore wrought. In daylight I am the raven. By night, I am as you see me now," he said, holding out his wooden hands. "You are in much danger, for the Marionettenmeister believes that you saw who killed Herr Dumbledore, and has sent the very same to kill you this night." He saw understanding light in their eyes, and saw Potter's hand grip the hatchet tighter. "But I will not, for the lady was kind to me in ways no other has been. It was a mistake to kill Herr Dumbledore, and had I the heart I would grieve what my hands have done. But now is not the time. Take your wife and child, and run as far as you can."
"But what about you?" Lily asked, holding the babe close. "The Marionettenmeister will destroy you when he learns you have defied him."
The puppet shook his head. "I shall smear my hands with blood of a boar, and burn the cottage to the ground. Everyone will think you are dead, and so you and the child will be safe. But you must go, now, and quickly. For there is little time until dawn and I must return before then. Take only what you need."
James immediately began packing food, water, and whatever money was in the house for their journey. Lily quickly put some clothing into a large bag. Then, she walked over to the puppet and laid her hand upon his cheek. "Do not stay with the Marionettenmeister," she murmured. "He is evil, and he will destroy you one day. Come with us."
He laid his cool, wooden hand against her warm one. "Truly, I believe I would like to come with you," he murmured. "But I must make it seem you are dead, or you will never be safe. Besides... he is the only one with the power to give me a heart. And that is my dearest wish."
Lily frowned. "Be careful, kind Rabe," she murmured. "For he may give you a heart as twisted and black as his own for all your pains." She gave him a kiss on the cheek, then looked at the wolf. "You will watch for him, when you wander the woods?" The silver beast nodded, then gently picked up the packet of clothes which lay at her feet.
James laid a hand on her shoulder. "We must go." He looked at the puppet and nodded. "I do not know if I can forgive you for killing Herr Dumbledore," he said gruffly. "But know this. The old toy maker had finished your story, though if this be some part of it I do not know. His stories always end happily, and I cannot see how this ending can be happy when he is dead."
The puppet shook his head. "No. My story does not end happily, I heard him say. But all will be well in the end."
Lily smiled at him, and kissed his cheek. "Be well, kind Rabe. Come and find us one day." With that, they disappeared with the silver wolf into the night. The puppet looked around the house and wondered, briefly, what it would have been like to live in such a place. He brushed a hand over the cradle left in the corner. The wood whispered to him of songs and stories, of laugher and something vague and warm. It floated in the air like a butterfly, flitting between each member of the house and growing brighter and brighter as it did. The wooden cradle whispered to him of... of...
He sighed. Until a heart beat within his chest, the cradle's whispers would never make sense. He plucked the lamp from the mantlepiece and hurled it upon the floor. The glass well shattered, sending oil seeping across the floors and lighting at once. The puppet hissed, his left wrist smouldering slightly before he could escape the fire. It left a dark, blotched stain.